


A Baby for My Baby

by mrs_theirin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_theirin/pseuds/mrs_theirin
Summary: Amalia Cousland has been told she's pregnant. She dreads Alistair's reaction, and just as she's starting to calm herself down, he arrives. Can she get through this conversation without crying?
Relationships: Alistair/Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 52





	A Baby for My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first ever work on here, and it's really short and kinda bad, but I had the idea and I'm rolling with it. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Amalia Cousland paced around the room. How was she going to tell him? He's got enough on his plate right now, she didn't want to bother him with this.

_ Bother him? It's a fucking baby. His fucking baby. _

She took a deep breath. He wouldn't be home until late anyway, you know, being king and all.

_ We can't have a baby. He's already too stressed out. This is going to kill him. _

Amalia's stride quickened, biting her thumbnail and messing with her hair.

_ Shouldn't he be overjoyed? It's a baby. Our baby. He said it was practically impossible for two Grey Wardens to have a baby together. Won't he be happy? _

She stopped at the window, staring down at her subjects busying themselves with duties.

_ No. He probably thought we would never be able to have one because of that. Ugh, we've never had time to talk about children! _

Her nails dug into the wood.

_ What’s the worst that could happen? He’s not going to yell at me.  _

She cringed, thinking back to the time at camp he had yelled at her for the way she had dealt with the situation with Conner. Angry Alistair...was not something he ever wanted to see again. Angry at other people? Sure, fine, kinda hot. Angry at her? Terrifying. Imagining his face scrunched up in disgust, his voice twisted in anger, made her shudder.

_ He wouldn’t yell at me. He just might be… _

“Disappointed,” she breathed out, slouching her shoulders in defeat. 

They wanted to travel the world, but it had hardly been a year after the Blight ended. There were still plenty of problems to fix and buildings to rebuild. It would be selfish of them to take off during this time of recovery. But with a baby…

“We can’t travel with a baby,” she whispered, sighing. 

Amalia spun around as the door flew open, a boisterous voice booming through the room. “Hello!” Alistair yelled, gliding across the room, sweeping his wife into a dip, kissing her softly.

“A-Alistair?” she managed, once he had brought her upright. “What are you doing here?”

“I managed to escape for about two seconds. Is two seconds enough to show me some love?”

She giggled as he kissed all over her face. “A million years wouldn’t be enough for how much I love you.”

“Aw,” he said, pulling away. “Romantic.”

“I try. But seriously, shouldn’t you get back?”

“Ouch, trying to get rid of me that quickly, wow, I’m so hurt.”

“Stop it,” she said, punching him in the arm. “You’ve got important kingly duties.”

He plopped onto the bed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I absolutely love sitting on a hard throne for three hours, just to say yes or no every 15 minutes. Can we get cushions for the throne?”

She sat down next to him, rubbing his leg. “I have cushions.”

He gaped at her. “What? Not fair. They just like you more.”

“We can get you cushions, Alistair,” she laughed. 

“Good. I don’t think a king’s back should hurt this much.”

“Well, I can use these two seconds to give you a massage worthy of a king.”

Alistair chuckled, sitting up to give her a kiss. “I would love that darling, but I’m afraid our two seconds are up. I’ll see you at dinner?”

Her smile faded as he stood up. “I don’t know if I’ll be hungry.”

He turned back, concern in his eyes. “Oh? Why not? Are you feeling alright?”

“I, uh.” She swallowed. She had to tell him. There was no way around it. “I was looked at today. By a mage.”

He sat back down on the bed, placing his hand on hers, which was resting on her thigh. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She sighed. “I just...he told me I was-”

A knock on the door sounded and it creaked open a little bit. “Your Majesty? Your presence is required in the throne room.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Alistair responded.

“But sir, Prince-”

“I said I would be there in a moment. Please give me time to discuss an important matter with my wife, your queen.”

The man at the door sighed heavily. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said, shutting the door.

Alistair turned to her, grinning. “You like that? I’ve been working on my diplomat voice.” His smile faded as he watched tears roll down her cheeks. “Whoa whoa whoa, what’s wrong?”

“He-He told me,” she sobbed, “that I’m-I’m pregnant.”

The room fell eerily silent. Amalia couldn’t even look at him. Her cries were cut short as Alistair picked her up off the bed, spinning her in the air before kissing her. “Are you kidding?” he shouted when he put her back down. “You’re pregnant?”

“You’re not mad?” she sniffled.

“Mad?” He scoffed, a huge grin on his face. “Why would I be mad? We’re going to have a child!”

“But you’re already so busy and we won’t get to travel and-"

She was cut off by another kiss. “Do you think I care about any of that? My beautiful wife is pregnant. With my child!” He raised an eyebrow. “At least, I think it’s my child. Is that why you’re crying? You’ve actually bedded another man and it’s his child? Oh, the horror!”

“Alistair!” she cried through laughter. “This isn’t funny!”

“No,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s beautiful. We’re going to have a baby.”

She nodded, their foreheads touching for a moment. “Yes we are.”

“Is it a boy or girl?”

She smiled at him, grabbing his hands. “Boy.”

His eyes became cloudy. “A boy,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. "I already have a name, if you’ll accept it.”

“Oh Maker. Please don’t tell me it’s something stupid, like Cheese Lover or-”

“Duncan.”

His mouth slammed shut.

“If that’s not too much, because I completely understand if you don’t-”

He kissed her again. “Duncan is perfect. I think he would like that.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, wiping a tear off her face. “I think so too.”

“Come on,” he said, sliding his arm in hers. “We have some prince to meet.”

She patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking.”

“Wow!” he said as they walked out the door. “I really did marry the perfect woman.”  



End file.
